The silence after that single word—bhai — why—was heavier than the concrete walls around them.

Arnav didn't react immediately.
He didn't flinch, didn't blink, didn't even turn fully toward them.
His gaze stayed locked on the glass cell ahead, sharp and cold, like he was already ten steps ahead of whatever they were seeing.
Then, finally, he spoke - voice calm, controlled, deadly.

"She needed to be here," Arnav said.
"It was important."

Kabir turned sharply, disbelief flashing across his face.
"Bhai..... she's Avanya's caretaker," he said, slower now, choosing his words.
"She's with her. She's always with her."
His jaw tightened. "Then why the hell is she in the basement?"

Arin nodded immediately, stepping closer.
"Kabir bhai is right," he added.
"If she's taking care of Avanya, she shouldn't be anywhere near this place."
His eyes flicked to the cell again. "This doesn't make sense."

Arnav finally turned to face them.

His expression didn't change, but something dark shifted behind his eyes.
"Because Avanya flinched," he said flatly.
"When she spoke."

The words hit harder than a slap.

"A seven-year-old doesn't flinch from strangers," Arnav continued.
"She doesn't recoil from guards. She doesn't stiffen when I raise my voice."
A pause—his eyes sharpening.
"She flinched when that woman reached for her."

Kabir's breath caught.

"That wasn't fear of us," Arnav said, stepping forward, boots echoing against the floor.
"That was instinct."
His voice dropped. "And instinct only reacts to what it already knows."

He stopped in front of the glass wall.

"I don't think whatever she's doing is good for Avanya," Arnav continued.
"And I don't give a damn how devoted she looks."
His jaw hardened. "A child doesn't pull away like that unless something's wrong."

The glass wall stood between them and the woman inside.

She couldn't hear a word.
Her head hung low, hair disheveled, wrists bound to the chair.
Her body was still but not calm.
It was the stillness of someone bracing for impact.

Arnav raised his hand once.

The guards moved instantly.

The glass door slid open with a sharp mechanical hiss, slicing through the silence.
The air inside felt colder, heavier, like it was soaked in fear.
A guard stepped forward without hesitation and threw a bucket of water straight at the woman's face.

She jolted awake with a violent gasp.

Her scream tore through the room.

"NO—NO—PLEASE—"
Her eyes darted wildly, locking onto the four men standing before her.
"Why are you doing this? Why am I here?" she cried, voice breaking.
"I didn't do anything! I swear!"

She thrashed against the restraints, panic flooding her face.

"Avanya needs me!" she sobbed.
"She's just a child , she can't be alone, please let me go back to her"
Her voice cracked, desperation spilling out uncontrollably.

Arnav didn't react.

Not even a flicker.

"I was the one who came here at night," the woman continued hysterically.
"I begged the guards to let me meet Vikram sahab!"
Tears streamed freely now. "I brought Avanya here. I stayed with her. And this is what you do to me?"

(Sahab = Boss)

Her shoulders shook violently.

"You tied me like an animal," she cried.
"You dragged me here , what is my fault?"
Her sobs grew louder, rawer, uglier.

Arnav's patience snapped.

"Shut up."

The word cut clean through the room.

But she didn't stop.

"I didn't harm her!" she wailed.
"I would die for that child - please -"

Click.

The sound was small.

But it ended everything.

Arnav pulled the gun from his holster in one smooth motion.
No hesitation. No warning.
The barrel lifted and stopped exactly at the center of her forehead.

The room froze.

"Utter one more word," Arnav said quietly,
"and I will put a bullet through your skull so fast you won't even finish crying."

Her mouth snapped shut instantly.

Her entire body began to shake not from shouting now, but from pure terror.
Tears continued to fall, silent and uncontrollable.
She nodded frantically, choking on her breath.

Arnav lowered the gun - just slightly.

"We are going to ask you a few questions," he said.
"You answer honestly—you walk out of here alive."
A pause. His eyes hardened.
"You lie and this ends right here."

She nodded again, violently.

"Yes.... yes....I will tell you everything," she whispered.

Arnav flicked his fingers once.

Two guards stepped forward, wheeling in a compact machine—cold metal, wires neatly coiled, screen dark and waiting.
The lie detector was placed beside her chair with clinical precision.

One guard tightened a belt around her chest, monitoring every uneven breath.
Another clipped sensors onto her fingers, cold pads pressing into trembling skin.
A cuff wrapped around her arm, measuring every spike of blood pressure.

She whimpered softly.

"Please...." she whispered.

Arnav leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the table.

"This machine," he said calmly,
"will know your truth before your mouth does."
His gaze bored into her.
"So don't try to be smart. I hate wasting bullets."

The machine beeped to life.

A low, ominous hum filled the room.

Kabir watched silently, jaw clenched.
Rithvik's eyes never left the screen.
Arin stood perfectly still already calculating outcomes no one had spoken aloud.

And Arnav--

Arnav smiled.

Not with his lips.

But with the certainty that whatever secrets this woman carried
they were about to bleed out,
one truth at a time.

The room was cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.
Concrete walls, a single bulb hanging overhead, and a machine blinking green and red beside the old woman's trembling form.

She sat there hunched, hands folded in her lap, eyes darting between faces she knew could decide whether she walked out alive.

Arnav stood first, calm and precise, his voice even as if this were a routine meeting and not a silent execution waiting for permission.

"Start from the beginning," he said softly, and that softness was more terrifying than a shout.

"When did you start working for Neil uncle?"

Her lips trembled.

"Three years ago," she whispered.
"From that day till today, I stayed with Avanya."

The machine blinked green.

"And when Neil uncle didn't come home?"

Her breath stuttered.

"When he had night duty or when he didn't return for days, I stayed," she said.
"I never left her alone."

Truth.
Again.

Kabir's jaw tightened harder with every confirmed answer.

"Where did Neil uncle find you?"

She swallowed, throat dry.

"Near his old apartment," she said.
"I lived close by."

"And why you?"

Her fingers curled, nails digging into flesh.

"I have no children," she whispered.
"No family."

The machine didn't hesitate. Truth.

"He asked if you could handle Avanya?"

"Yes."

"And you agreed?"

"Yes."

The room stayed silent for a long second, the kind of silence that eats your bones from the inside.

"What's your name?"

"Lata"

She answered.

"How old are you?"

"62"

She answered again, quieter now.

"And your family?"

Her lips quivered.

"They are dead," she said softly.
"Car accident."

Truth confirmed.

Kabir leaned back, exhaling sharply through his nose, like he was barely holding something feral inside.

Then Arnav's voice cut through the room like a blade.

"Did you ever hit Avanya?"

Her entire body stiffened.

The machine reacted instantly—sharp beeps, flashing lights, numbers spiking violently.
Her breathing went haywire, chest rising too fast, panic ripping through her.

She didn't speak.

Kabir leaned forward slowly, eyes burning.

"Answer."

Her head dropped.

"Yes," she whispered.
"Sometimes."

The word landed like a fucking gunshot.

Kabir stood up so fast his chair scraped violently across the floor.

His eyes-god, his eyes-were murderous.
If looks could kill, she would've been dead ten times already.

Arnav's hand shot out.

"No," he said coldly.
"Sit."

Kabir's fists clenched, veins bulging, but he obeyed - dropping back down, breathing hard, rage crawling under his skin.

"Why?"

Kabir's voice was low.
Too controlled.
Too dangerous.

"Why did you hit her?"

She sobbed openly now.

"She didn't listen," she cried.
"She was stubborn sometimes."

Kabir laughed once.
It was hollow. Broken.

"She's a fucking child."

No one corrected him.

"What did you hit her with?"

Her hands shook violently.

"My hand.... sometimes," she whispered.

The machine screamed truth again.

"And sometimes?"

She hesitated.

Arnav's fingers tapped once on the table.

"Speak."

Her voice cracked.

"Sometimes ....with a viper."

The gunshot exploded through the room.

Her scream followed instantly—raw, animalistic, tearing her throat apart as blood poured from her foot, splashing the cold floor beneath the chair.

The machine went fucking insane—alarms blaring, numbers crashing.

Rithvik stood there, gun still raised, smoke curling lazily from the barrel.

"That," he said calmly,
"was a fucking warning."

He walked closer, boots slow, deliberate.

"Just a trailer," he continued.
"The movie gets way uglier."

He crouched in front of her, blood pooling near his shoes, her screams bouncing off the walls.

"Go ahead," he said quietly.
"Scream."

She sobbed uncontrollably, begging, choking, shaking.

"No one's coming," he added.
"This place eats screams for breakfast."

He leaned closer, eyes dark as hell.

"If you ever touch her again," he said,
"even in your dreams—"

He pressed the gun lightly against her injured foot.

"This will feel like fucking mercy."

She nodded violently, sobbing, voice completely gone.

Rithvik stood up and walked back like nothing happened.

Kabir stared at him.

His expression was a mess - shock, pride, disbelief, something dangerously close to admiration.

Like: since when were you this brutal?

Rithvik felt it.

He met Kabir's gaze for half a second.

Didn't explain.

Didn't apologize.

Arnav saw the look too.

He said nothing.

Because he knew - 
they were all monsters here. Some just took longer to accept it.

"Did Neil uncle ever tell you he was planning not to return?" Arnav asked flatly.
"Did he say anything about disappearing?"

She screamed instead of answering, pain and fear swallowing words.

Arnav sighed.

"So fucking useless."

He flicked his fingers once.

The guards moved immediately - ripping the wires off, ignoring her cries, hauling her up roughly.

"Take her out," Arnav said coldly.
"And keep her alive."

The guards dragged her away, screams fading down the corridor, blood smeared across the floor like a signature.

The room felt emptier after she was gone.

Dirtier.

They walked out of the cell together, boots echoing through the underground corridors, passing white walls, lasers, locked doors, sins buried deep under concrete.

No one spoke.

When they finally reached the mansion hall upstairs, the silence felt even louder.

Kabir stopped suddenly.

He looked at Rithvik again.

Then at Arnav and Arin.

His voice was low.

"You hate her," he said.
"So why the fuck do you protect her like this?"

Rithvik didn't answer immediately.

When he did, his voice was quiet. Dead serious.

"Because," he said,
"the world already stole her once."

He looked away.

"And I don't let anyone steal what's under my fucking roof."

Silence followed.

Heavy. Loaded.

And somewhere upstairs, Avanya slept - 
unaware that hell itself was standing guard tonight.

______TIME SKIP

(Play the song from here)

Morning came without permission.

The sun rose the way it always did, pale and indifferent, slipping through the curtains as if nothing in the world had shattered overnight. Vikram stirred at the sound of a knock, his body aching, his chest heavy, as though sleep had never really touched him. He opened his eyes slowly and the first thing he felt was weight. Small, warm, breathing weight.

Avanya was still curled into him, her arms wrapped around his chest with desperate tightness, her cheek pressed over his heart like she was afraid it might disappear if she let go. Her lashes rested peacefully against her skin, unaware of the storm waiting for her downstairs. Tuffy lay stretched out on the sofa nearby, eyes half-open, unusually quiet.

Vikram didn't move for a long moment.

Then, with painful care, he shifted;slow enough not to wake her, gentle enough not to disturb the fragile bubble of sleep she was in. He eased her onto the bed, adjusted the pillow, pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. Only after making sure she was completely settled did he straighten himself and walk toward the door.

When he opened it, Arnav stood there.

No greeting. No softness.

"It's time," Arnav said.

He knocked once on the doorframe and walked away.

Vikram closed the door silently.

He went into the bathroom and changed, every movement mechanical. The white kurta and pajama felt too light on his skin, too clean for the weight he was carrying. No jewellery, no watch, nothing extra—just white, plain and final, the colour of mourning and endings.

When he came out, he stood near the bed for a long moment.

Avanya slept on, her breathing soft, her face calm in a way that broke him. He didn't know how to do this. He didn't know how to wake a child and tell her the world had permanently changed. Slowly, he sat on the bed one leg bent up, the other touching the floor and leaned closer.

"Little princess," he whispered.

No response.

"Little princess," he tried again, softer.

She stirred then, turning instinctively, burying her face in his lap like she always did when she wanted safety. Vikram's hand froze mid-air. He swallowed, then spoke again, voice steady only because he forced it to be.

"Wake up," he said gently.
"We have to say goodbye to Dashing Chachu."

Her eyes flew open.

For a second, she just stared - confused, unfocused, like her mind couldn't catch up with the words. Then sleep pulled her back for a moment, lashes fluttering as she tried to wake properly. She rubbed her eyes with both fists, blinking hard, then looked around the room.

Finally, she looked at Vikram.

She sat up and hugged him tightly, arms wrapping around his neck.

"Baba don't send dashing chachu na" she said in a small voice.

Vikram closed his eyes for a brief second before composing himself.

"Didn't we promise?" he said softly.
"That we will send him for work, and when his work is finished, we'll call him back."

She sniffed and nodded.

"Your friend can also finish his work properly," he continued, carefully choosing his words. "That's why he has to go now, haina."

She nodded again, trusting him the way only children do.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Let's get you ready."

He called one of the maids, a woman in her early forties with kind eyes and practiced silence.

 Avanya followed her into the bathroom without protest. The bath was gentle, unhurried. No splashing, no games. Just quiet care.

She came out wearing a simple white top and white pants, her hair tied neatly into a ponytail. No ribbons. No colours.

Tuffy sat on the floor when she stepped out, tail thumping softly. Vikram looked up from his phone and smiled. A real smile, brief and fragile, but real. He dismissed the maid with a nod, then knelt in front of Avanya.

He kissed her cheeks, her forehead.

"You're brave, right little princess," he said softly.

She nodded proudly. "Yes. I am brave."

"Good," he murmured. "Then you won't cry, okay? If you cry, your friend Ganesha will think you're weak and you're not."

She shook her head firmly. "I am not weak."

"We'll say goodbye," he said. "And soon, we'll call him back."

"Yes," she said seriously. "He works very fast. He no no take time."

Vikram lifted her into his arms and carried her downstairs.

The hall was transformed.

White flowers, white cloth, incense smoke curling gently through the air. A pandit sat near the center, chanting softly, samagri arranged neatly—gangajal, rice, flowers, diya, agarbatti, sandalwood paste, tulsi leaves. Guards, staff, and men from the house stood silently, all dressed in white.

Avanya looked around, confused.

"Baba," she whispered, "why everyone wearing white?"

"Theme," Vikram replied quietly. "We all have to wear white today."

"Oh," she said thoughtfully. "Okay."

In the center of the hall lay Neil's body, covered completely in white cloth. Only his face was visible peaceful, still, unreal his eyes are closed cotton in his ears and nose. Vikram stopped walking.

Kabir stood nearby, eyes red, jaw clenched. Arin looked away. Arnav and Rithvik stood straight, faces unreadable, emotions buried deep.

The pandit began chanting louder.

The final prayers.

He looked at Vikram. "It's time bade sahab"

Vikram knelt slightly so Avanya could see.

"Little princess," he said softly. "Dashing Chachu is going to God's place - Heaven. You can see him once more. so close your eyes and pray for him"

She folded her hands obediently, eyes closing.

"Gannu," she whispered seriously,
"Dashing Chachu is clumsy. He spills things. Please save your things from him."

She paused, then continued, voice innocent and earnest.
"He doesn't eat on time. You scold him and make him eat."

A sniffle.
"He watches too much TV. You say 'dal chawal pakka katti' so he stops."

Her voice trembled slightly.
"He comes home with bandage many times. Please don't let him go outside."

She went quiet for a moment.

Then, very softly,
"Please send him back to me soon. I miss him gannu i can't live without playing with him,  without his "my soul don't do this" , you send him fast na please."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

She opened her eyes, looked at Neil's face, blew a small flying kiss.

"I love you, Dashing Chachu."

The pandit turned his face away.

Arnav, Arin, Rithvik, and Kabir lifted the bier together and moved toward the ambulance. Vikram followed, holding Avanya close, Tuffy walking silently beside them.

The ambulance moved first.

Then the car followed.

No one spoke.

The silence was so heavy it felt like it might crush them all.

And the sun kept rising, cruel and bright, over a world that had just lost something irreplaceable.

The ambulance stopped with a slow screech at Nigambodh Ghat.

The air was thick with smoke and the faint sound of temple bells, as if the whole sky was humming a sad tune.

The river flowed quietly in the distance, carrying whispers of countless goodbyes. The pyre was ready; a stack of dry sandalwood logs arranged carefully, waiting for the body that once held laughter and warmth.

The nurse stepped forward first. He was quiet, respectful, her movements steady even though her eyes glimmered.

With gentle hands, He opened the ambulance and helped lay Neil's body onto the wooden pyre. The white sheet covered him fully, leaving only his face visible; peaceful, still, distant.

The car behind stopped slowly. Doors opened one by one, and the silence between them was deafening.

Arnav stepped out first, face sharp but hollow.

Rithvik followed, his eyes burning red.

Kabir came next, his fists clenched tight enough to tremble.

Arin have moist eyes and red nose.

And finally, Vikram stepped out - holding Avanya in his arms.

She hadn't said a single word.
Her tiny fingers clutched the fabric of his kurta like she was holding on to life itself.

Her eyes, wide and lost, stared at the pyre. She didn't cry. She didn't blink much. She just watched. What could she say? What words exist for a child who doesn't yet understand that her whole world has ended?

She still believed he'd come back - that Dashing Chachu would walk out laughing, calling her name, asking for Tuffy.

Tuffy trotted silently beside Vikram. Even the dog felt it. His tail didn't wag. His eyes shone wet, his steps slow, heavy. There was grief there, yes -but also something else.

Responsibility. Because somewhere deep down, he seemed to understand that his human, Neil, wasn't coming back and now Avanya was his to protect.

Vikram's heart was breaking in silence. Every step toward that pyre was a war within him.

He held her tighter, like his arms were the only shield left between her and this cruel world.

When he finally stopped near the pyre, he looked down at her.
"What happened, little princess?" he whispered.

She shook her head, small and fragile, and buried her face in his shoulder again.
Her body trembled as if she wanted to cry but the tears had lost their way.

Vikram didn't force her. How could he?

It was because of him - all of this. Her laughter, her joy, her world everything had turned into ashes because of him.

Yet he composed himself. For her. For his daughter for this child who didn't even know she wasn't his blood, but who had already become his heartbeat.

He looked up and saw the priest waiting near the pyre.

The priest folded his hands and spoke softly, "Bade sahab, kisi ek bete ko bulaiye aakhiri kriya karni hongi."

(Sir, please call one of your sons. The final rites must be done.)

Vikram turned slowly, looking at his sons their faces tight with emotion and then turned back to the priest.

"Meri beti aakhiri vidhiya karegi kriyakaram ki."
(My daughter will perform the last rites.)

The priest blinked, taken aback. "Lekin beti nahi kar sakti—"
(But a girl can't—)

Vikram's voice cut through the air, calm yet thunderous.

"Neil ki aatma hi iss bachi mein hai. Uski mukti bina uski aatma ke ho hi nahi sakti. Hum sabka uspar koi hak nahi. Agar kisi ka uspar hak hai, to wo sirf yehi hai uski beti"

(Neil's soul lives within this child. His peace can't exist witho
ut her presence. None of us have a right over him. If anyone does  it's her.)

The priest went silent.

Vikram kneeled down slowly and placed Avanya on her tiny feet. She looked up at him, confused, her big eyes filled with unshed tears. He cupped her cheeks gently.

"You want Dashing Chachu to be happy, right?" he asked softly.

She nodded, still wordless.

"Then you must do what the priest says. You will pray to Gannu that he gives Dashing Chachu peace. That he keeps him safe up there, hmm?"

She nodded again, her lips trembling slightly.

Vikram turned to Kabir. "Help her," he said quietly.

Kabir's throat bobbed as he nodded.

His hands were shaking; not out of fear, but heartbreak. How could the universe be this cruel?

A child barely old enough to spell her own name, now saying goodbye to the only person who made her laugh the loudest.

Kabir inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breath.

He walked closer, crouched, and gently lifted Avanya into his arms.

"Come on, sunshine," he said softly, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"We'll hide Dashing Chachu with these woods so no one gives him an evil eye, okay?"

Avanya blinked slowly, looking at Neil's face. His smile from last nights flickered in her head — the one that said, "Don't eat my sandwich, you little thief."

Her lips quivered.

A single tear slid down her cheek.

Then she looked up at Kabir, her voice trembling like a broken whisper.

"Can I go to Gannu instead of Dashing Chachu?" she asked softly.
"Please.... don't send him there."

That broke everyone.

Kabir's eyes filled instantly, his breath catching as he looked away.
He wiped his eyes quickly, pretending it was nothing. His voice cracked but he forced a smile.

"If you go, sunshine, then Dashing Chachu will miss you, hmm? Let him go for now. If he doesn't come back soon, then we'll all go together and scold him, okay?"

She sniffled. "Promise?"

"Promise," Kabir whispered.

Tuffy was sitting near Kabir's feet now, head bowed low, his fur damp near the eyes.

Kabir gently wiped Avanya's tears and handed her a small piece of sandalwood. Her tiny fingers wrapped around it. He covered her hand with his own.
Together, they lifted it.

"One" he whispered.
They placed the first piece on Neil's face.

"Two" another piece.

"Three" another, slower this time.

"Four" the last piece.

And just like that - Neil was gone from sight.

Gone from the world.

Gone from her tiny eyes that had never seen loss before.

Covered not just by wood, but by silence.

By finality.

By the weight of every love that didn't get a chance to say one last word.

Avanya's hand remained in Kabir's even after it was done, trembling softly.

Her lips parted, but no words came. Only one sound escaped - the faintest, smallest sob, the kind that could shatter a mountain if hearts were made of glass.

Vikram turned away, his eyes closing.

Arnav looked down.

Rithvik bit his tongue

Arin close his eyes to stop the cry rising in his throat.

And the river, quiet and eternal, carried another soul toward the sky.

____________👉🏻👈🏻____________

Hey my anuvians...

I am really, really sorry today.

I couldn't write further I tried i swear i tried but sometimes the heart just refuses to move even when the mind is screaming to go on
I have been crying for the last thirty minutes straight writing and editing this chapter, listening to that same thing again and again the one I asked you to listen to and every time it played it felt like something inside my chest cracked a little more
I didn't want to add this scene I honestly didn't i wanted to skip it, avoid it pretend it doesn't exist..... but some scenes are like wounds---you don't want to touch them yet you know they are important for healing

This one was necessary and that's what hurts the most

My hands betrayed me. My eyes betrayed me

The words were there but they refused to come out the way I wanted

I know some of you might feel angry, or disappointed or think why did she stop here  why didn't she push through? But please try to understand..... it's hard.

It's unbearably hard. How does a little child bear so much? She has a family , yes-a good family-but then my thoughts drift to those who never even got to say their first wordn "Dad," because their father had already left this world.

Sometimes I just sit and think how cruel can God be? How can happiness be snatched away from someone who hasn't even learned what happiness fully means? Oh God..... no. That thought alone breaks me.

And then I look at myself. I am so grown up yet if my papa even gets a small fever I fall sick with worry too.

Even when I am in PG, miles away from home I can't imagine my world without my parents.
The idea itself scares me, suffocates me. And I know.... I know you are feeling the same.
For you, your parents are your world. The ground beneath your feet. The safe place you run to when everything feels too heavy. Writing this made me realise that even more deeply and after this ......
I am going to call my parents and tell them again how special they are how much I love them how incomplete I am without them

I don't have much to say today. My heart is too full, my mind too loud, my soul too tired. Just one more chapter like this is left, and then.....then I promise I will make you smile again.

A real smile. The kind that stays even after you close the app.

Till then, please forgive me.

Forgive your emotional author who feels too much, who breaks while writing, who sometimes chooses honesty over strength.

Be patient with me.
Be with me.
Always.

Bade bade deshon mein aisi chhoti chhoti baatein hoti rehti hain, senorita right?

Your Anuvae always. 🖤

FOLLOW, SUBSCRIBE, PUT ON A SHOW — AUTHOR-ANUVAE & @anuvae._.here, NOW OFF YOU GO. 💀